


love love, said mother moon.

by atrocities_galore



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, First Kiss, First Meetings, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Prison Arc, Reminiscing, Unhappy Ending, george wishing his boyfriend wasn't a meglomaniac, poetic synonyms for your lover being a prisoner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29792112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atrocities_galore/pseuds/atrocities_galore
Summary: now, george wondered if he were to visit dream, if he would be the same.if the scars on his cheek were still healing from their last manhunt, if his lungs were still recovering from how hard he wheezed at one of george’s jokes. did he still grin whenever george called him an idiot? did he still always carry that stupid mask on him? oh, oh and perhaps he still shouted to everyone that he would protect george, that no matter what he would still be on his side. he had to ask himself, if that dream was still his dream.or maybe, he had changed.maybe he truly was evil.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 58





	love love, said mother moon.

**Author's Note:**

> kinda ooc george?? maybe?? sighs. anyways this is before the latest dsmp tommy stream, so :)

george remembers dream differently than everyone else.

right now, he was an unfamiliar man. cold to the touch, broken and rebuilt to perfection. he was the one thing everybody villainized, sought after to be their origin story, to be a protagonist. he was a stepping stone, yet crushing.

yet, when someone asks george if dream was always like this, he shakes his head.

he knows better.

they first met when they were younger. couldn’t have been older than thirteen when the two stumbled across one another.

it had been one of the hottest days in july, the sun beating down his vengeful rays across the backs of the earth. he was never usually cruel, but george wouldn’t have been surprised if something had made him upset. george gets upset easily.

his father always chastised him for that.

he got upset over spilling a glass of water that one time at a friends house. he got more than frustrated after mckenzie caulfield said she wouldn’t be his date at their middle school dance, but that was also understandable. he even got mad over the fact that his favorite game, tetris, was broken on his gameboy, because he fucking  _ loved _ tetris.

yet, all of those things were small little mishaps that added up to his father sending him to play outside for the day; how could he be upset outside?

george huffed, a strong pout had been scribbled across his face. apparently the universe was just doing everything it could to stop him from playing tetris.

there he had sat, back against a sequoia tree with his small frame looking like an ant against it. sweat made his forehead slick, eyebrows furrowed with his knees drawn up to his chest. outside was gross, what with its many bugs and not enough coolness. the only shade he got was what was provided to him by the leaves atop the ginormous tree, which he thanked the heavens up above for.

for the past few hours, he kicked around the same few rocks in the area before getting bored and going back to sit down some more. it wasn’t that he didn’t have friends, it was just that his friends didn’t have him. or at least, that’s how he justified him being alone on the hot summer’s day.

even the sequoia trees were empty, birds long gone to try and find somewhere cooler to nest. the insects that usually scrambled across the bark haphazardly were in hiding as well, petrified of getting crushed with the afternoon heatstroke. he’d kill to see even a centipede right then.

after a while, the boy got so angry at nothing in particular, that he just shouted out of frustration and flopped onto his back.

the sky with it’s cerulean finish made his scowl clear up like the almost faded clouds up above.

“you are so loud.”

george shrieked at the blond face that appears above him.

he scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, panting and grumbling at the scare he had been given. face red with embarrassment for how he reacted, the raven haired boy peered in annoyance to the other teen.

he was about george’s height and age, that was for sure. he had shaggy blond hair and sunkissed skin, probably from hanging around near the beach too much. freckles dusted across his shoulders, the other boy wore a bright green tank top and black swim shorts; obviously ignoring the knowing, idiotic grin spread wide across his childish features. the picture reincarnate of your average, obnoxious eighth grader minus the neon nike and abercrombie clothing.

“were both of those loud noises you, or just some bird-”

george scoffed, “of course they were me, do you see a bird anywhere around here?”

in response, the blond kid spins around staring straight up into the trees. he mumbles a curse, probably getting dizzy, and looks back to the brit with a shrug.

“you’re an idiot,” the older lamented.   
  
he smiles. “i’m clay, actually, but a bunch of my friends call me dream.”

“. . i’m george.”   
  
“what kind of a name is george?”   
  
“what kind of a name is  _ dream _ ,” george shot back.

dream grinned a toothy grin, sticking out his hand in return. grimace slowly dissipating, the older took his palm and shook a bit harder then necessary. a smile only returned to his face when he heard the blond mumble a small ‘ow’.

they stood there a moment, awkwardly tugging their hands away with sweat falling at each passing second. one of them was prepared for summer, one was despising himself for not being like the other. 

but the blond is kind enough to jab a thumb in the opposite direction of where they stood, tilting his head to the side. “i was about to go get ice cream, try to beat the heat ‘n all,” he rambled.

sly smile pricking at the brit’s lips, he hums, “if i come, would you pay for me?”

“we just met and you’re already trying to take me for all i own?” his voice was questioning, eyebrows raised up like he was being asked the worst thing on earth. something about it was off, though.

“well,” george stammered, obviously not trying to come off as rude. he did want a friend, even if his standards were that low. “you don’t have to, i was just saying.”

“i’ll buy. s’least i can do for a crazy kid who screams to himself in the woods, right,” dream snickers, albeit playfully.

at the end of that day, george got ice cream and a friend, while dream earned a bruise to his right shoulder. adult george smiles fondly at the memory, pressing his fingertips to his knuckles as if he could touch the red on the bow of his hand again.

he sits now, at the same sequoia tree thousands of blocks away from what he considered his home. back against the autumn leaves, listening to them crunch while he tried to get comfortable. the sky had never strayed far from it’s cerulean blanket, only now hosting azure outlines and cobalt rips. it was familiar, as if he never was too far from his true happy place. where everything began and ended.

and for a while, he ponders his actions.

he ponders of why he had to love someone so unloving, care for someone so cold.

because his memories of dream are different than everyone else’s. the general public views the man as a cruel, tyrannous villain. they think him to be too mean, too sharp for their bark. his bite was not as bad as it seemed, though, but no one took the time to try and figure that out. 

george did, though, and he hates it.

he wishes that he had never been so fond of that damned sequoia tree, and wishes to god that he had never made it his favorite landmark just like dream. was it just fate that led him to feel such a painful longing in his heart while his loved one was away, or did he make that choice somewhere down the line of this terrible life? because if so, he wanted to know what he could’ve done different. if there was a stone he could’ve unturned, or a little old lady he could’ve helped more to make this outcome changed.

he didn’t want to not love dream, but he wanted the ache in his heart to pass after so long.

and as he gazes up into the faded, falling green leaves from above, george remembers how the beginning and end came together.

it had been when they were around eighteen. finally ready to take on the world with no remorse just like they’d been planning. the two boys had already seen enough blood and war in their lifetime that it felt peaceful to be back at where they first met, where they started.

dream had grown more barbaric, in george’s eyes and words. his hair was now down to the back of his neck, sandy blond growing restless over the scarred, tanned skin. those eyes of his that bored into the back of the brit’s head were moreso bright, now, even past all the bloodshed and idiotic things that’s shaped him to be the man he was that day. he wasn’t a machine, but just as refined and perfect as one. shaped to be brutal, but soft around the edges.

but arguably, george had been the better off. he’d figured out how to grow into his awkward, lanky body; still shorter than dream, no less. the brunet had managed to get a bit more muscle, a bit more agility and a bit more brain than he had a few years ago. they were both different, yet still one in the same. still meant to hunt one another down to the ends of the earth, still meant to stay together no matter the difficulties.

leaned up against the ancient, tall tree, the blond grinned his ferocious grin. “you remember when we met here, georgie?”

“no, of course not,” the shorter huffed out with a small laugh. “s’not like i could’ve forgotten. you were terribly rude.”

“if i remember correctly,  _ you _ were the rude one out of us, isn’t that right?” dream’s words landed like silk against a hot summer’s day, george’s cheeks tinting with a scoff. “punched me so hard, i had to explain to my mom why my shoulder was blue!”

  
“you’re being dramatic,” george mourned.   
  
“you love it,” dream promised.

and there they danced their usual little dance, shoving one another with playful intent. and george laughs like the moonlight forbade him from ever feeling tragedy, and dream studied the other boy as if he were the prettiest muse he had the gratification of seeing. both of them familiar with one another, leaning against each other with no regard to how the world could see them. if anything, george knew that dream truly would take on the entirety of the planet earth if it meant his happiness.

even when their dance simmers down into quiet laughter and a half-assed apology from dream, who almost made them both fall, they still keep their hands intertwined and hearts open.

after a while, he hears the other boy speak up.   
  
“you know i love you, right george?”   
  
time stops for a moment, allows the brunet to catch his breath with a small chuckle.   
  
“of course i do, moron. you’ve never stopped loving me,” he teased with a tilt of his head. just so he could meet the blond’s eyes.

to his dismay, the younger scoffs a bit. “okay- well, yeah, but you know, like- like  _ love _ love, right?”

love love. now, was that love like the love dream gave to cindy crenshook in the fourth grade, or the type of love he gave to a best friend? like the hugs exchanged between him and sapnap, all masculine and too affectionate, or the pecks on the cheeks of his highschool girlfriends; all of which never lasted more than a week, george had to remind himself.

he thinks he didn’t mind whichever one it was.

“so you love love me, huh? is that what this is?” the brit spoke out, gesturing to their locked hands. “and here i thought you’d been fooling me all this time.”   
  
dream grinned, shaking his head. “pff- of course not. i love you like- oh, like, like how a dog loves to chase cats. you’re my cat! but not actually though, unless you’re keeping your freaky cat powers from me.”   
  
“i’m not a cat.”   
  
“just making sure!”

“well,” george began, pausing for a moment to let his words sink in. he was an idiot. “love is a strange thing.”

“so tell me about it.” the blond pressed, a small smile hanging on his face.   
  
“wouldn’t you love to hear me go on about the things i love, hm?” and when he was met with rapid nodding from his friend, george could only roll his eyes. “if you love me like a dog loves chasing cats, which is already strange in itself, then i would say i love you like . . like how i love the summer season.”   
  
dream frowned. “but you hate summer!”   
  
“no,” the brit chastised with a small flick to his forehead. the younger quieted down with a huff. “i hate some of the aspects of summer. i absolutely despise the hot weather and the screaming kids by the pools, and especially- oh god,  _ especially _ the mosquitos, but i still like summer. i like the sun that always shines out, even if it gives me sunburns, and i like seeing you come to get me from my house whenever you want to take me out for ice cream. and besides, we met in the summer, idiot.”

he loves to hate the smile that grows across the taller’s face.

“so what you’re saying, is that i made you love summer,” dream wore a stupid little smirk, and didn’t flinch away when he felt a slap to his shoulder. just like all those years ago, he missed it almost. “how sweet of you, georgie.”

“you’re insufferable.”   
  
“you looove me,” the blond chuckled.   
  
and he was right; george did love him.

and at nights he wondered if his type of love was reciprocated. if dream looked at him with the same amount of appreciation in his eyes, if their breaths were synced up when no one was watching. if they were lovers in another life, where their hands were never lonely and their lungs were always filled with the possibility of one another.

was it selfish to say he hoped for that?   
  
was it foolish to be in love so young, to dream about things that could possibly never happen? george tossed and turned with that idea at night, when the world stopped spinning and all he could think about was a wheezing laugh and how much he wanted him there. he would give up all the carnations and cornflowers in the world to listen to him ramble about the statistics of him winning a game, or getting a certain amount of enderpearls from one trade. if so, then he was the biggest fool of the earth.   
  
perhaps dream noticed their silence, or maybe he just wanted to look at the other a bit better, because his hand reached up to cradle the older’s jaw. angling to smile at him properly, with only a small, “hey.”   
  
who was george to resist? “hi,” he remembers giggling.

“have i ever told you the story of the moon and the sun, geo?”   
  
with a hum, he shakes his head.   
  
“i think you would’ve liked it. it was said lugh, the god of light and fire, had fallen in love with mother moon. now, mother moon was like- insanely beautiful, right? pretty black hair that shone in the night just like her eyes, gorgeous, i swear. anyways, lugh had a major crush on her, and chased her around the sky each night in an attempt to catch her.”   
  
he took a breath, smile falling a bit before continuing. “but each sunrise, mother moon grew drowsy and had to stop their little game to regain her strength. lugh waited for her until the ends of every day, only to miss her by a bit. and so, he fell unconscious every sunset to allow her to shine her beauty across the planets.”   
  
“it grew too frustrating, both of them believing that fate had cursed them to never find each other in a way that mattered. but, every so often they came together in the form of an eclipse. mother moon shielded lugh from the atrocities of the earth, and they enjoyed one another’s company for as long as they could before getting dragged away once more.” as if he lost his train of thought, a bit of a silence falls over the two before he adds, “kinda tragic, really.”

george drunk in the story, mulled it over in his mind before nodding. he sympathized with mother moon. “did they ever find each other? like, for good?”

dream shrugged. “the sun kept chasing the moon, even when their love was dull.”

“oh.” and for whatever reason, it wasn’t until just then that george realized how warm dream’s hand was against his jaw. for a split second, he truly did wonder if the blond was the sun’s reincarnate. he’d do anything to be mother moon.

he spoke again after a moment, voice a bit softer than it’s usual sharpened bite. “that lugh guy sounds familiar, wouldn’t you think?”

“he does, huh.” the blond swiped a thumb over the older’s cheekbone.

they let the silence drown over them, soaking up one another’s presence like there would be no tomorrow. the stars were their demise, allowing each other to see the definitions of what it meant to care.

george knows somewhere deep down that they were the epitome of lugh and mother moon. he knew that dream would chase him to the ends of the earth if it meant for him to be happy, just so he could see a smile grow across the brit’s pale face. and he would play into their game without a doubt, would run as fast as he could until his lungs ached and he had to rest at sunrise. he wondered if dream’s fingertips were golden as well, raising his hand to place it over the other’s.

he cherishes the flicker of hope that washes over the pretty boy’s face.

“i’d love it if you were my moon, georgie,” dream requested with a soft, quieted sigh. “i’ll keep your days bright, i’ll make sure you’re never lonely.”

george just smiled his moonlight smile. “i’m sure you would.”

and for a single moment, when their smiles dropped and they realized that they love loved each other for a final time, lugh and mother moon dipped their heads from above and watched as cold against warm met.

fainly, george can remember how dream’s lips felt against his own.

alone now, the fallen king touches his fingers to his lips and feels them bruised in a past life, feels the heat of the sun against them. but they’re wettened as well, the taste of salt on his tongue. moving his hand up to his cheeks, he realizes now that the tears stinging his eyes have finally fallen down his porcelain skin.

because the sun had finally died out, the meetings of solar eclipses no longer. his heart breaks because it finally understands that lugh is not coming back, that dream is a figment not meant for them to have. no matter how much he yearns and wishes and longs for their nights at the sequoia tree to come back, they are just as advertised. memories and nothing more.

now, he wondered if he were to visit dream, if he would be the same.

if the scars on his cheek were still healing from their last manhunt, if his lungs were still recovering from how hard he wheezed at one of george’s jokes. did he still grin whenever george called him an idiot? did he still always carry that stupid mask on him? oh, oh and perhaps he still shouted to everyone that he would protect george, that no matter what he would still be on his side. he had to ask himself, if that dream was still his dream.

or maybe, he had changed.

maybe he truly was evil.

maybe dream was no long so bright, his eyes dulled down and his hair cut short. maybe his laugh was broken and glitched out like a terrible horror novel, and the silkiness of his charming voice was now laced with deceit. 

george’s heart falling between the concaves of his rib cage, lungs burning from the saccharine slap of reality, he can’t stop the questions filling in his head. did dream forget how to care, did he forget how to be kind? did he forget his idiotic rambles and did he forget that one time they pranked sapnap in highschool? did his smile grow false, did the promises he made to george suddenly mean nothing now? please, correct him if he’s wrong, but was dream really a monster? everything was falling in on itself, george’s world was collapsing at the realization that he was best friends with a killer. with a creature.

he feels sick.

he feels used.

but yet, his face still stays monotone. despite his hands gripping at the grass for dear life, and despite his aching heart, he can’t find it in himself to truly care. because in the back of his mind, he always knew the truth.

he always had a thought of dream being not what he seemed. somehow, somewhere, he always knew that dream hid his gnashing teeth and brandished claws behind the wide smile he gave george. his words were practiced venom, held close and hung out to dry over time, but george just didn’t want to believe it. he wanted dream back, he wanted to grow old with him and die with their souls intertwined. but that wasn’t him, and george had to get used to that.

his dream was lost to the crying obsidian, to the tortured kids and his weary mind that shattered so long ago.

the brunet looks up to the coded world, and begged for this to be a glitch in the code.

because despite his expressionless face and tired eyes, he still had hope. he held out hope that one day, he would visit his lover in jail, and teach him how to care again. not through affection, not through blood, but through the heart.

he would teach dream the definition of love love, no matter how hard he tried to refuse. he thinks it unfair that the universe guided dream so far off his true path. while their memories were bloodied and battered, they were filled with the one thing they knew how to give; each other. george knew that if dream had the opportunity, he’d stay in that damn prison just to prove a point. and george wish he didn’t love him for that.

george wished for a lot of things.

he wishes he never got jealous of cindy crenshook or mckenzie caulfield for spending too much time with dream when they were younger. he wishes that he got to kiss dream a little longer when they were eighteen, so he could engrave that memory into his head. he wishes that the prison was kinder to dream than it already was.

above all though, dear reader?   
  
george wishes the sequoia tree above him would fall one day.

maybe then he would be under it, and wouldn’t have to wake with the crippling reality that nothing would ever be the same.


End file.
